Of the Wars to Come
by TheCaptainZ
Summary: Everyone remembered Robert's Rebellion; the battles and the blood, the tragedy and the horror, the broken and the betrayed. There was Robert Baratheon, and Rhaegar Targaryen; Jaime Lannister and the Mad King, Eddard Stark and Arthur Dayne. Yes, everyone remembered the rebellion, even Jack, a man who by no right should have existed there at all, but found himself there all the same.
1. Jack I

**Jack I**

_The screams, the yelling, the pain, and the heat, especially the heat. First, there was a scream; he had been sitting in the backseat when the noise broke the sound barrier, splitting his ears. His eyes blinked, and when they opened again, the heat overwhelmed the cab of the Humvee. He didn't have to look down to know he was being burned alive; in that moment he knew what happened, they hit an IED, it had exploded, their Humvee was going up, and he was dead._

_He waited, the pain was excruciating, and he was screaming his lungs out, or what was left of them, but he waited. The world went black and he still waited, for his life to flash before his eyes, for the light to show up at the end of the tunnel, for the pearly gates to appear out of no where, anything, but nothing came, it remained black. But then something odd happened, the burning lessened, it lessened and lessened until he didn't feel any form of heat anymore. A few more seconds passed and then he felt a cold feeling, a kind of rush over him, or what was left of him, but this, this was constant. The rush didn't change as he lay there though, and a few more seconds passed before he realized what it was, it was wind._

_..._

Jack's eyes opened to a blue sky, a light breeze whipping his face. His arms shot up, hands frantically feeling around his body.

_Nothing?_

Eyes shooting upwards, head in tow, he sat up looking at the rest of his body. It was clean, no burns, no scars, no nothing. His clothes were still intact, standard desert camouflage fatigues, though his jacket was missing so only his undershirt remained. His M4 was also absent, which concerned him, though his M9 was still strapped snug in its holster on his belt, two spare clips alongside.

A sigh of relief exited his mouth, realizing that he was alive, but then it hit him.

_I was in a convoy driving smack dab through the center of the Middle East, desert miles upon miles each way. How is it that i'm here._

Jack took his surroundings in, gazing at the area around him. It was a green patch, grass mixed with dirt, and some gravel; good sized trees dotted the landscape, and there was a definite slope to the area in general. Some mountainous area to be sure. Jack at once thought of a few places. Southern Iran had some mountainous regions, Turkey too but that was a bit out of the way, the Caucuses maybe. He shuffled places through his head until he remembered.

_I died, our Humvee hit a IED, it exploded, the fire._

Jack felt the burns for half a second before regaining his composure, though a million thoughts and worries ran through his head in that moment. Jack sighed, shaking his head. It wouldn't do him good to have a complete breakdown; not here, not in the middle of nowhere.He lifted his head, the sun was a good ways past its highest point, afternoon._  
_

_It'll be dark before long, got to find civilization, or at least somewhere to camp for the night.___

He trotted down hill, as the slope wasn't too steep, passing more of the same trees, patchwork grass, and gravel that was evident when he woke here, and soon enough he came upon a road._  
_

_Well at least I wasn't dropped into a human-less void.___

He gave a humorless chuckle. The road was more or less a big gravel path but it sufficed to tell Jack that at least this area bore a semblance of civilization.__

Jack turned downhill once more, knowing with night coming on, the lower elevation would garner a lesser chance of freezing to death. The path winded down, hugging the side of the hill. He noticed that though the path was definitely declining, that it kept more or less straight bearing, curving ever so slightly, and the shortness of his breath__

_Definitely not just a hill, definitely a mountain. Not the only one too, I suspect.___

Jack looked up, the warmth of the sun beating down on him, and a sparse array of clouds inhabiting the dull blue sky.__

_Where am I? Why am I here, cause this certainly doesn't seem like the afterlife? I...I burned to death, they'll send what's left of me back home. Mom'll cry, Angie too, Dad'll cry, but he'll do it when no ones there to see.__ I'm dead...i'm dead...why am I dead?_

Jack's foot caught on to something hard, and the 25 year old almost lost his footing, nearly tripping over the object and falling to the graveled ground. He wiped the tears that had welled in his eyes, and glanced down. Jack had neglected to see a body, sprawled out on the ground.

Composure washed over him once more, as he realized that the body wasn't alone. Three, no four more were scattered along the road ahead. Jack gazed at the corpses; dead bodies weren't a new thing to the man, his tour had made sure of that, but these bodies, they, they didn't belong. The one he had tripped over had been wearing...chainmail. The layer of metal ringlets covered the mans body from neck to waist, over it a kind of longer shirt, lie those they wore back during medieval times. The shirt was blue, a bird of some sort portrayed on the front.

_Did I get sent back in time?_

Jack furrowed his brow in concern, dead bodies was never a good thing, and judging by the state of them, they hadn't died all that long ago. He looked to the other bodies, these were different to the armored man in the way that they were all covered in furs. They had seemed to have more blunt kinds of weapons while this one had a sword gripped in his right hand, and a shield in his left. Before Jack could even think, he felt himself reach for the mans sword and the sheath which was around his waist.

_Am I really looting this mans corpse?_

He stopped a moment, when did he throw his morality out the window? He pondered for a second before he realized.

_Jack, this man is dead, you're alive. You have no idea where you are and all you know is that these guys were fighting and now their dead. You have 3 clips of ammo, and a knife, nothing else, soon enough you'll run out of bullets. These men have swords, for god knows why, and they'll probably have some sort of armor too. Take the goddamn sword and shield._

Jack sighed as he ripped the blade from the mans cooling grip, doing the same thing with the shield. He slung the shield over his back, and tied the sheath around his waist, opposite his holster. Pushing himself up, he said some last words for the man, and stepped over the body.

As he stand midst the carnage though he came upon a queer decision.

_If I go on, i'll probably run into whatever caused all of this, but... but if I turn back i'll be at the mercy of near freezing temperatures at this elevation as soon as the sun goes down._

Jack looked downhill again, the road thinned out into a valley further down. If he went down that way, all he'd be able to take was the road, both sides became to steep as the path progressed. He looked back at where he'd come from and then back down the road, sighing.

"Shit!" he walked downhill, past the bodies.

…

A few hundred more feet down the trail proved more of the same for Jack. Bodies littered the path, both ones with armor, as with fur, but far less of the former. It made a kind of sense to Jack.

_Better armor, better weapons, probably better fighters too._

Further along, Jack passed a dead horse; blood excreting from multiple arrow wounds to its body and neck, though it was the smell that disturbed the soldier the most. Jack grumbled, covering his nose as he moved on. The walls of stone were rising beside him now, as the path narrowed to about ten feet across. He look at the cliff faces, and made a realization.

_Those barbarian dressed men were trying to ambush the ones in armor._

To many a patrol had honed his sense of strategy. From the dead Jack figured that there had been a greater number of these barbaric people than there had been the armored ones. More number hadn't meant a sure victory though as the people in the furs had a lot less protection and a lesser quality and quantity of weapons, so they waited. They waited until the company of these 'knights' had started their way through this pass, and they ambushed them.

Just then Jack jumped up as three figures darted by him, running in the opposite direction he's been walking.

_Horses._

Jack had seen their manes fly in the wind as they passed him, he was getting closer to the epicenter. On guard now he started more carefully down the road, almost hugging the cliff face as not to be out in the open. A hundred more feet greeted him with the sound of clanging steel. Jack, in response lay his hand on his sidearm, as he skirted the wall towards the source of the sound.

The sounds got louder and louder as her approached, the clanging of steel echoing along the walls of the chasm. Jack etched closer and close though, not thinking once what he would do when he got there. Improvisation had always been his go to, and to be certain, he wasn't at all bad at improvising on the fly, but that didn't mean that it worked 100% of the time.

Jack finally peered around a corner in the chasm to see the cause of the commotion. There, in the road stood 4 men; 1 in armor, the other 3 in furs. Two of the men in furs were skirting around the armored man, who they were obviously fighting, while the last man resigned himself to watching the quarrel. It looked hopeless for the one in armor but every time either of his two attackers would strike; one with an axe, another with a spear, the man would parry with his sword, and the dance would continue. On and on it went, and for a moment Jack almost found it enjoyable, that is, until his foot let loose a small stone, causing a small rockslide of pebbles to follow.

The onlooker in furs spun around quickly to the noise seeing Jack. Screaming something that Jack couldn't decipher there and then, the savage charged him.

He closed in, 10 feet, 7 feet, 5, 3; a loud bang echoed off the walls of the crevasse. The group of men, both furred ones and the armored one looked to the cause. Jacks arm was outstretched, the black handgun gripped in his fingers. He looked to the furred man who charged him, seeing a hole seeping red right in between his eyes, who seconds later collapsed dead. There was not time to spare though as in his absence of thought the furred man with the spear had peeled off from the fight with the armored man and closed the distance with him.

The man thrust his spear, but was quickly met with the steel of the sword that Jack had took off the dead man.

_When did I take this out?_

The sword parried the spear away as Jack took some semblance of a dueling stance. He had taken martial arts as a child, karate to be specific and they taught you how to defend yourself in basic, but this, this was entirely new to him.

The spear thrust again and Jack felt himself slide left, he would need to kill this man, there was no denying that now. An overhead swing this time;Jack parried once more, swinging the spear away.He needed to think, watch how this man fights, and figure a proper counter. The man thrust 3 quick strikes, which Jack blocked clumsily. Jack skirted around the man, and the man skirted back; Jack swung high, the man blocked high. He thrusted, Jack parried, on and on and on. Jack slowly skirted in, closing the distance between the two.

_Come on, come on._

The barbarian let out a scream as he went for a overhead swing. Jack sensing the attack, moved inward, his left hand catching the spears shaft mid way up, his right thrusting the sword straight into the mans gut. As Jack exited that moment, he looked to see the mans eyes staring straight into his, and the red ooze of his blood spilling from the wound onto the swords hilt and his hand. A second later he felt himself let go, as the spear and limp body fell to the gravely ground.

Before he head the thump of the body on the ground, his body was already running towards the last of the furred men. His mind was aloft now, he had killed men before, but there was something to be said about shooting a man, and then thrusting a sword through him, and feeling his blood flow onto you.

The morality of the moment was gone though as he broke back to his senses. He and the armored man had cornered the last of the furred men, though he hadn't given up. He made a valiant effort but as he swung towards Jack, the armored man found his opening and sunk his blade through the axemans neck.

Not a moment had passed before Jack felt the wet blade kiss his neck though. He turned slowly, raising his hands and dropping his sword to the ground. The armored man looked about the same age as him, maybe a bit younger, with dark brown hair falling to his shoulders. The shirt that covered his mail armor was snow white, and on it was what looked to be the head of some dog, no, some wolf.

"Who are you?" he asked gruffly.

"Jack" Jack replied cautiously.

"Jack who?" the man retorted, his blade not moving an inch.

"Just Jack sir." he looked up and down at the man. "I meant no harm man, really."

"Why did you help me Jack?"

Jack inched his neck away from the blade, "Because... because it looked like you needed help."

The man let the blade relax slightly, still cautious, "Well...Jack, I need to make my way to the Fingers, and it would seem my escort is dead." Jack thought back to the men along the road. "I would stop to bury them but there's bound to be more clansmen coming. You seem like a well enough sort, and there is no way I can sleep and keep an eye out for clansmen at the same time, if you can escort me to the Fingers, i'll make sure your paid accordingly." the man said sheathing the sword. "What do you say?"

_Fingers, where the fuck are the Fingers, and where the fuck am I?_

"Uh, yeah, I guess, I guess I can do that... Mr?"

"Lord...Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."


	2. Eddard IJack II

_**A/N: Hey you guys, before I start this chapter I just wanted to say thanks for following, favoriting, and reviewing, I didn't think i'd get as much attention as I did for the story and i'm real grateful for that. Nevertheless if you see any problems with the story feel free to give me some constructive criticism, I could always use some. Either way, hope you enjoy the chapter, and see you on the other side.**_

**Eddard I**

Eddard Stark sat on a weathered rock, running his blade down the small slab of whetstone, as the reflection of the flames from the campfire danced along the shinier parts of the steel. The dead of night brought a still silence to it, a silence that the Lord of Winterfell had relished in that moment.

He slowed his sharpening to a stand still, gazing from the blade to the small fire a few feet in front of him.

_Lord of Winterfell, i'm...Lord... of Winterfell now._

The quiet wolf sighed, the last week had been hectic...to say the least. Lyanna was stolen by the Prince of Dragonstone, Father and Brandon were murdered, and his mentor Jon had raised his banners in rebellion after the Mad King had demanded his and Robert's heads. Not a day past that, Ned had rode out from the Eyrie, 10 men escorting him, to reach the North to rally his fathers bannermen.

_No...his bannermen now._

Eddard felt a rush of salty air brush through him, by midday tomorrow they would make the coast of the Fingers. He looked to his companion, laying opposite the fire from him, asleep. Jack, his name was, an odd name in truth, definitely not a common name in the Vale or the North for sure, but, this Jack also proved to be much more an oddity than just his name. His clothing for one, was something Stark hadn't never seen before; baggy breeches covered the mans legs, his boots looked of a foreign design, and his shirt seemed well made, though plain in design.

_Where are you from?_

Jack hadn't said, he made himself out to be a wanderer, though for what Ned didn't know. His speech struck him for an odd one to, after the fight he seemed confused to where he was, but after Ned retorted he seemed to regain his knowledge quickly enough. Any questions pertaining to where the wanderer was from were quickly shoved aside, though done so with a sense of guile, or grace. Other questions Eddard asked though Jack seemed content on answering. A mother, father, sister, nephew,and niece, Jack had answered when asked about his family though saddened at the fact that they were not around anymore. Ned had stopped asking questions after that, he hadn't know this man long but, but he could now so recently share in the mans sorrow. Just then the fire gave a crackle, popping as some of the smoldering wood gave way.

_Just like his weapon, but much much more soft of sound._

Ned raised his gaze from the fire to his companions belt, the device still snug within its own small sheathe of sorts.. The weapon was loud, he knew that from the fight, but if the corpse had given any clue, he could have said that it had been really quite effective. At close range it had punctured the clansmens skull, that had been plain enough to see, but the damage it caused could be comparable to someone's face being caved in by a mace, or a smaller warhammer. Slipping his blade back into its sheathe, he wondered where such a weapon originated from. Not from any of the Seven Kingdoms he knew that, which only left, the east, Essos. Eddard hadn't known much of the Free Cities and the other lands of the east, but he considered that Jack's weapon could be from there, though that was another topic that his companion skillfully shrugged off.

A few more minutes of silence passed before movement alerted his vision over to Jack again. The man grumbled as he turned over and sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes and dust from his tan face and near black hair. Sitting a moment, Jack turned towards him.

"I believe its time to switch off milord." he said with all the courtesies of someone highborn. It was about that time Ned supposed but though it had been a tiring day, he didn't feel like going to sleep just yet.

Jack stretched as he stood, and found a seat on the trunk of a fallen tree. He had grabbed a small branch and prodded at the fire some before looking back up at Ned.

"Not tired?"

He replied with a curt shake of his head, "No, not at present."

"Hmm" Jack sighed prodding more at the flames. Ned's gazed turned from the man back to the device on his belt, the small metal weapon.

"What is it?" Ned almost blurted out of curiosity.

Jack's eyes never left the fire, though he sighed when the questioned was asked. "It's called a gun milord." He didn't even have to ask what Eddard had meant.

Ned didn't know how to respond to that, but Jack continued. "Think of it like a crossbow, but smaller and made of metal." Jack pulled out the 'gun', rolling it through his hands, "It launches smaller cone shaped pieces of metal, called bullets which travel fast enough to pierce through flesh."

He looked interestingly at Jack as he flicked a lever on the weapon ejecting another slab of metal from the bottom, grabbing this Jack pulled what he thought was the 'bullet' from the slab.

"See" his companion said assuredly.

It was definitely an incredible sight to behold, something he hadn't thought was possible. "Where did you acquire it?" he asked.

Slipping the slab back into the main weapon, Jack spoke, "I found it...in some ruins in the east. Looked interesting so I took it, though not knowing its function." Jack smirked, "Let's just say I didn't adapt to using it all so quickly, but I learn on the fly."

"I see." Ned replied contently standing up from the stone he had been sitting on. Walking over to a suitable patch of dirt he lowered himself.

"Jack." he said as his arse hit the dirt.

The man of 5 and 20 lifted his gaze from the flames, "Milord?"

"On the high road, when those Clansmen were near to killing me, why did you save me? The odds were not in my favor, they hadn't seen you, and too you I was a stranger, so why" Ned said calmly.

"My father once told me that 'the best thing isn't always the easiest thing', and while I could have left you to your fate, I would have regretted it, because doing something like that isn't me. You could have been anyone and I still would have tried to help you. Who am I if I do nothing while an innocent is about to be killed?" Jack ended.

Ned took his speech in for a moment, before moving to lay down, "You are an honorable man Jack, for all that its worth though, thank you for saving my life."

Jack nodded his head before Eddard Stark lay his down on the cold ground and drifted to sleep.

**Jack II**

Jack sat still for those few minutes until Ned Stark lulled off to sleep, rear firmly on the fallen tree trunk that he sat on. After that he reared his gaze to the fire, the dancing flames still gave the soldier goosebumps even still, but other things kept his mind restless this night.

Westeros, he still couldn't believe it. George R. R. Martins medieval nightmare tale, a Song of Ice and Fire. Jack had known the series thankfully, he had binged watched the series during his time at college, and immediately binge read the books as well. As was the life of the hip college student, though his interest in history, had edged on his interest a bit.

_Great, instead of the pearly gates I get a medieval hell, dragons and zombies included...or should I say seven hells._

He gave a solemn laugh at that, at least he wasn't thrown into a hell that he knew jack shit about. But still the realization loomed over him, there wasn't much chance of him getting home ever again. Even by some miracle he ended up back home, he'd still be dead, or at least a burnt husk of his former self, probably missing multiple appendages from the explosion. Not a life worth living, even for the chance to see his family again. Jack sighed, lifting his head towards what was unmistakingly a young version of Sean Bean.

_Seems like the greater power decided on using the shows representation of the characters._

It had taken awhile for Jack to figure his situation out, though once he did he pieced everything else pretty quick. If memory served it was 282 after conquest, 17 years before the start of the main storyline, which had thrown him into the early stages of Roberts Rebellion, the last breath of nearly 300 years of Targaryen supremacy over the 7 kingdoms.

_And I just so happened to run into one of the most pivotal players in the coming war, how quaint._

Eddard Stark was by all accounts the man Jack would have expected him to be, the new Lord of Winterfell was noble, humble, and really quite quiet, though on that he couldn't be blamed. Jack could relate, Stark had practically lost his whole family; his father burned alive, brother choked to death, and his sister abducted, no wonder Ned was so sullen.

Jack knew just by that, that this, his whole being dropped into a medieval fantasy nightmare, wasn't by coincidence. Nevertheless, it seemed fate gave him the obvious opportunity, it was obvious he would need to take it, and to do that, he needed a plan.

The afternoon sun reflected opaquely on the waters of the Bite, as the small fisherman's vessel sailed with the wind. The two hadn't found any trouble finding transport across the bay, Ned was lord of Winterfell after all, and if that didn't suite, a few pieces of silver sufficed the fisherman just as well. The group, Eddard, Jack, the fisherman, whose name was Danwell, as well as his daughter Alice had set out 3 days hence, and by the look of it were making good time. Danwell swore that by afternoon tomorrow they would make the Sisters. There Ned would be able to coerce faster transport to White Harbor.

Jack sighed as he sat, his hands lightly gripping the fishing pole. The stillness of the water, and slight whipping of the wind on the sails gave him an eerie sense of calm, enough so that he didn't much care about fishing as much more as something to keep him occupied. Though not to say the trip wasn't without its charm, Danwell, though an aging man of 8 and 40, was a man full of energy and life. Jack didn't know if that was because he was always like that or because he was in the presence of a Stark of Winterfell, or just because they had paid him a pretty penny to ferry them across, but still he proved a interesting conversationalist.

_Still I think I'm going to lose it if he tries to vaguely offer his daughter for me to marry again._

His daughter, Alice, wasn't bad looking. If it had been another time, in another universe, he might have considered asking her on a date. The fisherman's daughter was on the skinnier side though what was left was a lean muscular frame from what Jack had seen. Coupled with head of messy, unkempt brown hair and what he assumed was average garb for a fisherman from the Vale, Jack was not deterred by the girl of 19.

Jack had other pressing issues though than the fisherman and his daughter, case in point his continued service under one Eddard Stark. He had been surprised that Ned hadn't dismissed him when he acquired transport across the Bite, which gave him a shred of hope. Of course becoming his sworn man would put him at the forefront of the rebellion, a high risk of injury or death associated with that.

_Out of the frying pan and into the fire I suppose._

That left the question of how, Jack had shown at least some prowess with medieval weaponry, and he was pretty sure Ned was interested in his pistol, though he couldn't say to what extent, or if that would even be enough.

He sighed, _I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it then._

Reeling in the line, Jack lifted the glorified stick and set it aside. He stood up from the box he had sat on and stretched out a bit. He looked to the back of the boat, where he saw Danwell motor mouthing Ned to an early grave. Smirking at that he turned towards the front end, where the shy teen was checking on the various riggings of the boat, all in all the boat seemed at peace. Nodding Jack walked over to the side of the small cabin and lowered himself to the deck.

_Damn...I'm tired._

He yawned, and determined the spot suitable for a nap, closing his eyes.

"JACK!"

His eyes opened suddenly, and he was met with a bombardment of sharp water droplets careening against his face. The sky was a dark gray , and the waters of the Bite were thrashing against their small craft with a primal intensity.

_Shit...how long was I out?_

The wind whipped at his face once more as he turned to the direction of the voice who had called him. Ned Stark stood at the starboard side of the boat loosening the knot to one of the riggings, his head turned to Jack.

Jack sprung to his feet, now laddened down by wet clothes, and shuffled across the deck to Ned.

"What happened?"

"A storm came upon us faster than Danwell could have anticipated, at first it was minor but it keeps getting progressively worse."

Jack quickly took an assessment of the situation, while Stark had been unknotting the line to bring the sail in, while Alice had been doing the same on the opposite side of the boat. While this was happening, Danwell had been piloting their craft from atop their cabin so that the boat could position itself in a way that it wouldn't tip if it hit a wave.

"Jack, go help Alice, I've got it over here"The Lord of Winterfell nearly screamed. He bid as he was told and scrambled to the opposite end of the craft where the teenage girl was nearly finished unknotting her knot.

The fisherman's daughter acknowledged Jack with a nod as she finally got the line free. Jack immediately grabbed the rope further up and started tugging. The task was made more difficult by the fact that the water had soaked both into the rope and the sail making it three times as heavy as normal. After a few minutes the force of the wind pushing the sail and thus the rope had nearly grinded Jack's hands raw, but the two successfully pulled the main sail down. Wiping the mix of sweat and rain water of his brow Jack looked to see the aft sail, the one Ned had been pulling in, was still half down.

Jack looked to Alice, who gave him a knowing nod assuring him that their line was secure, and he turned scrambling toward Ned. He'd hadn't ran 5 steps though before he felt the deck angle itself sharply, the boat had hit a nasty wave the wrong way, which knocked him to the ground. He found himself on his knees after a second though, but his head in a shellshock, he had smacked it on the deck, when he fell. In that shock, he had heard the distinct noise of a body hitting the water, even over all the noises that were present. His view rotated to the boats helm, it was empty.

Staggering to his feet, Jack could hear Alice's screams, she had seen her father unconscious body fly off as well. "Help him" she screamed, "He's going to drown."

Though when Jack went to reply a snap could be heard from behind him, the dominant sound for but a few seconds. He turned to see the line that connected to the aft mast had snapped, and was flying wildly in the air. Not a second passed though before Jack looked to Ned, who was desperately trying to catch the line, instead get struck by it. The blow had hit him in the face, rendering Stark unconscious, his limp body careening over the edge of the boat into the water as well.

Jack stood up panting, he looked to one side of the boat, Alice was still screaming, and to the other side, where the rope was still whipping violently. He didn't have time to think but the situation was obvious, he...he couldn't save both men. Without thinking he ran, vaulting over the edge of the boat, and dived into the water.

_**A/N: **_

_**Pop/ war sage:**** I'm glad you guys like it, and as you see by this chapter I have continued it.**_

_**Blorg13:**** Let's try to see Jack through Robert's Rebellion first buddy.**_


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